Late Night Travels and Visits
by moonlight80
Summary: Dean! Dad says you're not allowed to drive the car!" "This is an emergency, Sammy." Wee!Chesters. When John is sick and hurt on a hunt, Dean gets his first taste of driving alone. Fluffy one shot. Sam in 8, Dean is 12, going on 13.


-1Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me, I was not paid to write this story.

A/N: This is a shameless fluff one shot piece. I honestly don't think that John was the monster that some people make him out to be. He was just a single dad doing the best he could with what he had. This is my take on this family. Wee! Chesters. Dean is 12, going on 13, and Sam is 8.

XXXXXXX

XXXXXXX

"Dean! Dad said you're not allowed to drive the car!" Eight year old Sam Winchester followed his brother out into the cold January night. He was carrying several motel blankets that he wouldn't have taken if Dean hadn't sworn that they were just borrowing them and the maids didn't care because it was less bedding for them to wash.

Dean was tugging on his father's jacket, pulling him over into the passenger seat. "Sammy, Dad said I wasn't allowed to drive the car unless it was an emergency. This is an emergency, okay. Help me get him over, will you?" He tugged on his father's solid frame again, wishing that he'd wake up enough to help him move him.

Sam climbed in the driver's side and pushed on his father's leg, being careful not to touch his bleeding head or jar his arm more. "He's heavy."

"I know. It's because he works out all the time and he's got a lot of muscles. Okay, now push his other leg over here... got it. Give me a blanket, Sammy. Oh, and go get a few pillows." He bit his lip as he pulled his hand away from John's bloody leg and wiped it on his jeans, not caring about the stain it was sure to leave, then hissed and put one of the sheets on the wound to help with the bleeding.

"Dean..." Sam looked unsure.

"Sam. we need them more than this place does. Hurry, before someone sees, okay." Dean started the car and turned the heat all the way on. He shivered and put on the gloves his dad always made him carry with him. John had taught Dean how to drive when he was only a little older than Sam, but up until now, he'd always watched the boy like a hawk, making sure that he did everything right. Dean swallowed hard, wishing, not for the first time, that John could at least be awake to tell him what to do.

Sam came back with three pillows and, thank God, a box of tissues and all the towels he could find. "Alright, I'm ready now."

"Good boy, Sammy. Now, put a pillow under Dad's head then lie down in the back and go back to sleep yourself."

"What about you?"

"I'm taking us to Pastor Jim's. remember? He'll take care of Dad." Dean sounded very sure of himself, as the good Priest had never let them down before.

"But what about us, Dean?"

"What about us? I'll take care of us, when Pastor Jim can't. He always has food that I can fix for you and all that good stuff."

"Do you remember how to get there?"

"Course I do. Sleep, Sammy. We'll be there by morning."

"Dean? What happened to Dad?"

Dean took a deep breath and weighed his words carefully, not wanting to cast their father in anything but the best light possible. "Dad... went hunting when he didn't feel good. Even though you are never supposed to do that. If you go hunting when you're sick, you could get hurt, or worse." The boy chewed on his lip, remembering how he'd asked his father not to go, but John had simply bent down to meet Dean's eyes and explained to him that people were getting hurt and he had to stop it. He'd ruffled Dean's hair and told him to watch out for Sammy before turning to leave.

"But Dean, how come Dad did it then?"

"Because he had to. Like I have to drive now. Sometimes you have to do things that you're not supposed to do because you're the only one who can do it. Dad was the only one who could save that family, so he did."

"But he's hurt now." Sam's voice shook a like bit.

"I know, but he'll be okay. He's always okay." Dean was interrupted by a harsh, deep cough followed by a moan. Dean pulled the car over and looked at his dad anxiously. "Dad? You awake?" He didn't get an answer. "Sammy, did you get a washcloth?" Sam nodded and handed it up to Dean, who blotted at John's feverish forehead. "Stay asleep, okay, Dad. We'll be at Pastor Jim's before you know it, and you'll feel better."

"Is Dad awake?"

"No."

"Then why are you talking to him?"

Dean sighed, getting slightly sick of Sam's questions right about now. "Because, Sammy... because Dad talks to you while you're asleep too, when you have a bad dream or a fever, and you feel better. Even though you aren't awake, you still feel better. Now please try to sleep, I have to watch the road." Dean turned on the radio and turned it to a station that played rock from the 70s and 80s, the only music that didn't threaten to put him to sleep.

Sam nodded and leaned back against the back seat, closing his eyes as the car moved forward.

XXXXXXXXX

A few hours later, Dean pulled the car up to Jim's house. Sam sat up and opened the door, bolting out into the snow. Jim, who had been awake, working on a sermon, went to the door, a puzzled frown on his face. "Pastor Jim! Pastor Jim!" Sam rushed up the steps and put his arms around Jim's waist.

"Sammy, what are you doing here?" He put his hand on Sam's soft dark hair and returned the hug.

"Aren't you glad to see us?"

"Of course I am, I'm just confused. Your Dad didn't tell me he was bringing you here tonight."

"That's 'cause he didn't bring us here, Dean did. Dad's sick, an' hurt an' he's been sleeping an awful long time." Sam's eyes were huge. "An' Dean drove the car all the way here all by himself!" He was a bit breathless from talking so fast.

At this, Jim was speechless, Dean hadn't even turned thirteen yet, he wouldn't for another week. He knew John had been teaching the boy to drive, but didn't think he meant for him to drive so many miles at three AM, either. He recovered quickly. "Alright Sammy, let's go help Dean get your dad in here." He kept his voice forcefully cheerful. "Dean?" He moved quickly to the boy's side and gently guided him out of the way. "Let's get John inside, shall we?"

Dean nodded, trying to look mature and calm. "Yes, Pastor Jim. Sorry to drop in on you like this."

"There's nothing to be sorry for, Son. You know you're always welcome here." Jim pulled John up against him easily and supported him up the steps, John's two sons following him closely.

Jim settled John on the bed in the small guest room he saved for unexpected visitors and took to removing John's bloodied clothes, as he wasn't awake to do it himself. Dean watched as the Priest went to the bathroom, for a first aid kit, he assumed, then turned to look at his little brother. "You look sleepy. Did you bring in your pajamas?" Sammy shook his head and yawned. "That's okay, Pastor Jim always has something for us to sleep in." He tapped softly on the bathroom door. "Pastor Jim, I'm gonna put Sammy to bed, okay."

"Alright Dean, there's still PJs in the bottom drawer."

"Yes Pastor Jim." He put a protective arm around Sam's shoulders. "Let's go."

After Dean had helped his half asleep brother into his pajamas and told him the poem Alexander's Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day from memory, he waited outside the door of his father's room for Jim to finish up.

Jim shut the door softly, knowing that he'd be back very shortly, but he wanted to know what was going on before both boys were in bed. John was stable and sleeping, and he'd rather not wake his friend right now anyway. He blinked in surprise at Dean, who was just standing there, watching him. "Aren't you tired?"

Dean shook his head. "I wouldn't say no to a cup of coffee, though."

"You wouldn't say... of course you wouldn't." He shook his head in an almost sad way, but patted Dean's shoulder warmly. "You're in luck. I was pulling an all nighter and just happen to have a fresh pot made." He knew better than to ask if John let him have coffee, knowing full well that Dean had been allowed to have coffee for years now. Still, it surprised him how old Dean seemed in his young body. How John had taken his young son and turned him into a companion. He handed Dean a mug and joined him at the table. "Alright Dean, I want to know what's going on. What happened to your father?"

Dean took a deep breath. "Me and Sammy had the flu pretty bad. Dad took care of us, but then he got it. It was bad too. Worse than ours was. He had a high fever and he was coughing a lot. He was gonna stay in bed, but he was working on a case. He'd done most of the research when me and Sammy were sick. These people owned a house that was haunted, you see. The ghost had killed a couple of people before they moved in, but no one believes in haunted houses anymore. They always get passed off as accidents. At first, they kept making Dad go away, even though he told them that the house kept having gas leaks and they needed to leave. After the last time, they told Dad that they'd called a gas man, and he said there wasn't anything wrong with the house, and if he didn't leave, they'd call the cops. Then, well, the ghost got the husband. Strung him right up and cut off his ears." Dean told Jim this without so much as a shudder. "So the lady called Dad on his cell phone, like he told her to if anything odd happened in the house. I guess she saw the ghost or something, because she was totally willing to listen to Dad after that. Dad was really sore and he kept coughing, but he went anyway. He still had a fever too, I saw him wash his face the way he does for us, when he thought I wasn't looking. That was tonight. Sammy was asleep when dad got back, but I wasn't. I heard him drive up, but he didn't get out of the car. After a few minutes I went out to see if he needed help and he was asleep behind the wheel. I felt his forehead the way he always feels ours when we're sick, and he was really hot, so I tried to wake him up. He wouldn't wake up, so I knew I had to get him here instead. He was bleeding and he hurt his leg, his arm too."

Jim watched Dean sip his coffee and look into his mug hard. "I'm glad you thought of me, Son, but it might have been safer for you to call me and I'd come help you out."

Dean shook his head. "I thought about that, but I couldn't carry him into the room and I couldn't ask anyone for help without them thinking that he'd been out doing things he wasn't supposed to be doing. And me and Sammy aren't really old enough to be alone for so long, so this was the only way."

Jim sighed softly and refilled Dean's mug when he held it out to him. "I should go see what else I can do for your father." He got to his feet, thinking that he should admonish Dean to go to bed or something, but knew it wasn't really worth telling him to do those sort of things. Dean knew what he should be doing, most of the time.

XXXXXXX

Jim walked into John's closet room and sat on the bed, his first aid kit resting on his knees. "Hey John, I hear you got yourself in a little bit of trouble. Let's take a look at your leg again. This is going to be a little bit chilly." The blanket was pulled back and Jim took a sharp breath and shook his head. "All this from a salt and burn?" The bruising had been a bit slow to show up, but now that John's injuries were a few hours old, he looked much worse than he had when he'd first arrived.

"Wasn't your regular salt and burn."

The deep, gravely voice of his friend startled Jim so that he dropped the blanket. "You're awake? For how long?"

"Not until you woke me up. When did you get here?" John hadn't opened his eyes yet, so he wasn't sure what bed he was in.

"You mean, when did you get here."

John's eyes flew open at that and he tried to sit up, but couldn't. He started to cough instead. "What do you mean?"

"Dean brought you here not too long ago. He said you foolishly went on a hunt when you had the flu. I'd love to hear your excuse. You can tell me while I look you over."

"What was Dean doing driving?"

"Saving your life, my Friend. The boys can't fix you up when they can't get to you. Dean did what he thought he needed to do."

John sighed softly. "It was buried on the house grounds. In the basement, more exactly. The house had been owned by people who starved and murdered their mentally handicapped son back in the days when being mentally handicapped meant that you were possessed." He took a deep breath as Jim checked him over, making sure he hadn't missed anything the first time, then set himself to coughing. Jim rested a caring hand on John's back and waited out the fit.

A timid knock on the door startled both men. "Pastor Jim, can I come in?" Dean was hovering around the door, holding some cold and flu medicine.

"Of course you may." He smiled as Dean drew near his father's bed, looking a bit nervous, but ready to stand his ground if John seemed upset. "Here Dad. You couldn't take this before, but you always told us that we couldn't go to sleep without taking our medicine."

John took the bottle and ruffled Dean's hair weakly. "Yeah, I did. You won't get better if you don't sleep. But I seem to remember telling you that you weren't supposed to drive the car when I wasn't there to watch, too, Dude."

"You were there, but you weren't watching. But Dad, I didn't know what else to do. Me and Sammy, we can't carry you, you're too big."

John smiled at his son warmly. "It's okay, Dean. You did good. Besides, I don't guess I always listen to myself either. Now, why don't you go to bed and try to sleep? I'll survive."

Dean glanced at Pastor Jim, then nodded. "Sammy'll want to know where I am anyway."

"You're a good man, Dean." John's eyes closed involuntarily and he hardly felt the rest of Jim's exam.

Beaming, Dean headed back to the bed he always shared with Sam when they stayed with Jim. He didn't resist when Sam cuddled into his warmth. Instead, he snaked his arms around Sam's small frame and rested his cheek in the slightly damp, sweet smelling hair.

XXXXXXX

It was almost noon when Dean was shaken awake by his younger brother. "Wake up Sleepy-head. Pastor Jim made waffles, and you love waffles." Sam was bouncing on the bed in an annoyingly cheerful way.

He coughed a few times and sat up. "Sammy, you're way too happy for this time of day, you know that? Did Pastor Jim say how Dad was?" He suddenly sounded worried.

"He said Dad was sleeping and his fever wasn't as bad."

"Great." Dean shoved the covers and Sam off of him and got to his feet. He'd slept in his clothes, but didn't really care. Once he went to the bedroom, it was as if he'd remembered how tired his young body really was. He'd shaken the flu, but still needed more rest than was normal for him.

"Come on, Dean. Pastor Jim said we could see Dad when we were done eating."

Dean followed his brother downstairs and was greeted by a cheerful, "good morning Dean. Sleep well?"

"Morning. Yeah, I slept okay. How's Dad?" He sat down next to Sam and eyed the waffles, remembering that he was hungry.

"He's alright. Sleeping. You'll be glad to know that his fever's down and his wounds look like they're going to heal nicely. No infection, not even a scar."

"Good. Is he awake? Can we see him?" Dean put more than his share of syrup on his food and took a bite, closing his eyes happily.

"You can see him, but he's not awake yet. And I don't want to wake him. I'd rather he wake up on his own."

Dean nodded quietly. "Well, we'll go see him when he's awake. We might, just accidentally, wake him up, and he needs to sleep if we want him to get better." Somehow, without realizing it, he'd stopped talking to Pastor Jim, and started explaining things to Sam.

Sam nodded and finished his waffles. "Can I go play, Pastor Jim?"

"Of course Son." He sighed as he watched the boy run back up the stairs, to the room he and Dean always shared.

"I guess I should go too. See what he's up to and all that. Besides, we interrupted your work last night, coming here."

"You never have to think you bother me, Dean. Your family is a joy to be around and I thank God for every time I see you."

"Yeah, um, thanks." he bit his lip and took his and Sam's plate to the sink to wash it out before going to the room as well.

Some time later Jim came into the room, where Dean and Sam were playing with matchbox cars. Dean had a special black one that he'd always play with when he came there, even though, at almost thirteen, he felt that he should be too old for such things. But hell, taking care of Sammy meant keeping him entertained too, right?

The boys looked up as Jim tapped on the door and came in when given the all clear. He sat down in an armchair and smiled at them. "What are you up to now?"

"Pastor Jim," Sam's eyes were very serious as he started his question. "What's a harlot?"

Jim was taken by surprise and blinked. "Why do you ask, Sammy?"

"Dean told me that Dad would wash his mouth out with soap if he told me, so he said to ask you instead."

"Dean..."

"What?" His voice raised defensively. "He was the one reading the Bible, not me. Not my fault that he reads the dirty parts."

Sighing, Jim sat on the floor next to Sam. "A harlot was a bad woman. Sometimes God did good things through bad people, giving them a chance to work for Him and change the way they lived their lives."

Sam nodded, a small frown puckering his forehead. He wasn't sure he understood, and he still wasn't sure exactly what a harlot was, but it wasn't Jim's fault that he didn't know how to talk to kids.

Dean, for his part, had been ignoring the conversation completely. He loved Pastor Jim, but he could live without all his God stuff. He'd seen a lot in his young life, but he'd never seen anything that pointed to someone who had a hand in other people's lives, guiding them for good. "Is Dad awake yet, Pastor Jim?"

Jim smiled at him. "That's actually what I was going to tell you. You're father just woke up and asked for you."

"Me too? Did he ask for me too, Pastor Jim?" Sam's round face looked worried.

"Yes, he wants to see both his boys."

Dean smiled and headed for the guest room. He tapped softly on the door before pushing in open. "Dad? How do you feel?" He caught hold of Sam's arm before the boy could climb up onto the bed and jar John.

"It's okay, Dude, I feel better. Come here, Sammy." Sam pulled loose of Dean's hand and got onto the bed, putting his head lightly on his father's chest. "Are you still sick, Dad?"

"A little bit. Not as bad, though. I feel much better knowing that Dean knows what to do in an emergency."

Sam smiled wickedly. "Are you gonna ground him for driving the car?"

John's warm laugh made both boys feel easy and relaxed. He waved Dean over to the side of the bed and ruffled his hair again. "Nope. He did good. You both did. You did good for not asking why too many times and doing what Dean told you to do, even though it was a little scary, and more than a little illegal."

Sam smiled proudly and didn't move for the bed. Dean spoke up for the first time. "Dad, when are we leaving? I mean, not that I want to leave Pastor Jim, it's just... you know." He wasn't going to say it out loud, but the sooner they left, the sooner he knew his Dad was really alright.

"In a couple days, I think. I still feel a little rough around the edges, and Jim's enjoying his quality time with you two." He closed his eyes and sighed softly.

"You tired Dad? You want us to leave?"

John shook his head. "Nah, I like you here. So Sam, did you learn anything while I was away?"

"I learned that Dean can't cook anything that doesn't come out of a can. Does that count?"

"No, it doesn't." Dean's indignant voice spoke up. "Besides, I was tired."

"It was grilled cheese and tomato soup. You shouldn't have burned the tomato soup."

"Shut up Sammy, otherwise do better yourself."

Jim smiled to himself. "Boys, no fighting in the sick room, that's the rule." He turned to leave the family to themselves.

Dean perched at the foot of the bed and stared at his father intently. "Do you need any more medicine, Dad? I put it on the dresser."

John smiled. "I guess I could use some. After I take it, I want you boys to go play, though. I don't need to catching this from me."

"Can we," Dean handed him the cup. "Catch it, I mean. You caught it from us."

"I don't want to run the risk of you being able too. Wash your hands really well before you touch anything, too, okay." He downed the flu meds the way he would a shot and looked at Dean. "Thanks Son. I'm gonna get some more sleep."

"Come on, Sammy, let's go play with the cars some more. I'll even let you play with the Impala."

"That's not a really real Impala, Dean." Sam's face was unsmiling, almost impatient.

"It is too, come on." Dean rolled his eyes and shook his head. Kids these days, no imagination at all.

XXXXXXX

John stayed in bed for another five days and, to his credit and Jim's amazement, was a model patient. His boys sat with him for a while every day, each time giving him a rundown on how things went that day. When he was finally well enough to get up and move around, he got a call with a hot tip on a new hunt. Before Jim knew it, John was packing the boys up and leaving.

"Are you sure you want to do this, John? You still look pretty tired."

John smiled and nodded. "Sure I'm sure. I feel fine. Well, I'm at eighty-five percent, anyway. Besides, if I get tired, I have a great back up driver."

Dean blinked, then grinned. "You mean it? You'll let me drive her while you're asleep?"

"You already did once, and did a damn fine job. You boys ready to go?"

Sam nodded and hugged Pastor Jim tightly. "Thank you for letting us stay."

"You know you're all welcome anytime, right?"

"We know, Jim. But thanks again, anyway. Come on boys."

As they were leaving, Jim could have sworn he heard Sam ask, "hey Dad, what's a harlot?" He laughed to himself and turned to face his living room, which seemed much bigger without all the clutter from two boys, yet somehow, much smaller, too.

End

A/N (again): Reviews would be awesome for this fic, as I'm a little unsure as to how to write a Wee! Chester fic yet. Was it bad, good, needed work? Thanks for reading, at any rate. ML


End file.
